Games Of War
by Starstilettos
Summary: Gijinka, pre-canon, 'Loyalty' re-write with major plot changes! As the war intensifies, the GSA receives new hope in form of a Star Warrior recruit. But Meta Knight is more than he appears to be and soon enough he becomes a danger no one anticipated - even though he is just another pawn in the game of war...
1. Recruit

The air of planet Akyra felt thick and dead. A cold breeze carried clouds of ash through the gaping spaces between the blackened stumps that had once been a prospering forest. Only a few splintered stones and glass shards remained of the Capitol, the pride of Star Warriors and Galaxy Soldier Army alike, that had once risen high above the trees. Bright, shining, hopeful.

'What do we have left now?,' thought Galacta Knight, a senior Galaxy Soldier and one of the last Star Warriors. Sir Falspar, a young mechanic, brushed past her; following her gaze, he seemed to guess her thoughts.

"The city might have represented us," he muttered as he followed Galacta's gaze, "but we are still here, aren't we?"

The warrior shook her head and remained silent as she started walking again. The rest of her patrol looked at each other. A warrior with a battle axe glared at Sir Falspar before they followed their leader.

"Star Warrior business," he muttered and shouldered his way past the shorter soldier. The group proceeded in silence. Though alert, it was painfully obvious that none of them could look away from the destruction of their home.

A sudden screech ripped through the air, then a large shadow swept over them.

"Demon beast," hissed Galacta. They dove for the sparse cover of a burnt tree and drew their weapons, tense with the anticipation of battle. There was a moment of silence, then the sound of claws scarping against bare rock. Galacta was on her feet in an instant, barely stopping to signal for her men to follow before she unfolded her feathered wings and ascended from the ground.

Sir Nonsurat, the warrior with the axe, was the first to run after her, then Sir Falspar and finally the last member of their group, Sir Jecra. They were slower than Galacta - down on the ground they had to be careful to dodge rocks jutting from the ground as well as holes hidden under the ash and dead twigs. Slowly, the ruins of the Capitol made way for more close standing tree trunks, then those thinned away, too. Whether the forest had naturally grown lighter here or if the battles hadn't even left burnt remains was uncertain. At the edge of a huge crater, the three finally caught up with the winged warrior. Galacta was hovering in the air, about a meter above the ground, staring down into the pit.

A demon beast that resembled a giant crow used its huge, indigo beak to stab at the ground repeatedly, all the while screeching with anger.

"What-?," Jecra started and stopped when he saw the lithe, blue-haired figure dodging the attacks. It swung a rusty excuse for a sword and slashed the crow's eye with one especially fierce hit. The demon howled and flapped its wings, knocking the stranger back and against the rocky wall of the crater. Rubble fell and buried him.

Falspar, Jecra and Nonsurat tensed, ready to jump down and help, but Galacta Knight held up one hand to stop them. Her shoulders were tense, but the gesture was still firm enough to make the group obey. Her eyes remained on the pile that hid the stranger's body. The look in their magenta depths was unreadable.

Down below, the crow demon believed itself victorious and let out a high-pitched yowl of triumph. It bent down, using its beak to nudge aside the rubble and finish off what remained of its opponent. But once it got close, the rusty sword was thrust up and into the sensitive skin right over the creature's beak. It staggered backwards with an ear-splitting screech and when the stranger targeted its wings, the demon decided it had had enough and ascended from the ground. Within seconds, the only thing that proved the creature had been real was the thin spray of black blood on the fighter and a single, large feather slowly sinking to the ground of the ravine.

Galacta Knight had seen enough. She jumped down, wings spread to slow her fall. Precise and graceful as always, she landed in front of the stranger. A man, either young or at just short, she analysed; terribly thin, what little she saw of his skin ghostly pale, his blue hair greasy and unkempt. A pair of yellow eyes stared at her distrustingly behind a visor and he lifted his sword, uncertain. A rustle sounded and his eyes darted to the three other Galaxy Soldiers who had arrived after the brief struggle of climbing down safely. He took a step back, his whole frame tense. Deliberately slow, Galacta sheathed her lance. Behind her, her men, though more hesitant, did the same.

The air seemed to crackle with unresolved tension still.

"What do you want?," the man spat finally - his sword was still risen, though it was easily identified as a defensive stance.

"To talk," Galacta Knight said smoothly, "May we ask your name?"

He glowered at her a moment longer, then lowered his weapon a bit: "Meta. I'm Meta."

"Are you a Star Warrior?," Sir Falspar blurted out and earned himself another glare from Nonsurat, as well as a nudge in the ribs from Jecra.

Meta's head whipped around and his eyes focused on the mechanic almost threateningly: "Who wants to know that?"

"Four representatives of the GSA, one of which is a Star Warrior herself," Jecra spoke up in an unfittingly light tone. Now the glares were aimed at him. His words seemed to have a positive effect though. Meta didn't exactly relax, but the look in his eyes softened somewhat. His gaze wandered back over to Galacta Knight and found the crest on her shield and armor.

"Akonu... Juncho, feruca serta Galacticus teriba?," he asked. Galacta nodded slowly, approval radiating from her in waves - a rare occurrence these days.

"P'lyren, serta Galacticus. Hotume feryn gomka serta?"

Meta dipped his head: "Cowey, arrunta serta uqe teriba kyn."

Nonsurat blinked and turned toward Jecra, who shrugged, then quickly nudged Falspar before the mechanic could speak out of bounds again.

"Without the old system, most Star Warriors grow up without an old family to guide them. I haven't talked to anyone able to speak the Old Tongue for almost five years. Aside from Sir Arthur, of course, and even he does not speak it fluently. Yours is...," Galacta hesitated and chose her next words carefully, "Impressive. I cannot place your accent, but it's clear you are born with it."

"I am aware," Meta said, voice suddenly stiff with something like sadness and something else none of them could quite identify, "I was born knowing it, but it never served any purpose - no one understood."

Galacta nodded, her voice warmer now: "It's a talent all Star Warriors have. We possess this language to ensure that we can work as a team even if we are from different parts of the galaxies and would not understand each other otherwise."

Meta nodded stiffly.

Silence descended over them. Though a lot less defensive now, Meta's eyes still flickered from warrior to warrior nervously. A rustle, then the sharp crack of charred wood breaking, prompted Sir Nonsurat to clear his throat and speak up: "We should not remain out here. The demon might come back with reinforcements. Not to mention the others might send out search parties if we aren't back in time," he hesitated, his age dulled eyes resting on Galacta Knight, "Meta may come with us, if he wishes to. Whether he joins our ranks or not is up to Sir Arthur though."

He turned around sharply and took the lead. Falspar followed quickly, his shorter legs forcing him to take two steps for each of the senior warrior's. Sir Jecra turned to follow them, then stopped and looked back, hesitant.

"Do you... want to come back with us then?," he asked and for the first time, he looked at him more closely - and noticed the cuts that littered Meta's thin, yet muscular arms. Some were from the crow's beak, some had presumably been caused by the fallen rocks and others looked like they were in various states of healing. "We could patch up your wounds, at least," he added.

Meta looked from Galacta to Jecra and back. The pink-haired warrior managed to look more expectant than anyone wearing a mask should be able to.

"I'd be glad to. You have my gratitude."

* * *

The destruction of the Capitol had forced the GSA to move their headquarters. Until they could find a permanent base, their flagship, the Shooting Star would have to do. The huge construction of steel and glass currently harbored all former citizens of the Capitol - all that survived. Which were not as many as there should have been.

Deep in the heart of the ship Sir Arthur had his office. Currently, the head of the GSA stood over a large map spread across his desk. His gloved hand brushed over the roughened paper, over the red and green and blue marked areas. Red, the parts Nightmare Enterprises had overrun already. Blue, the parts that remained neutral ground, though that usually meant Nightmare had planted his spies long since. And finally, green, those pitifully few, tiny specks, everything the GSA protected. Sir Arthur sighed and rubbed at his mask over his forehead.

"Six years," he muttered, "Six years and we have nothing to make up for the destruction of the Capitol. Nothing."

His fists clenched. He reached for the bottle full of golden liquid next to him and the tiny glass he had put over its top earlier. With steady hands, he filled the glass and downed the shot.

"Happy anniversary," he said bitterly, toasting to the off white walls of his room before he emptied the second glass. "Look at the mad old man," he muttered as he filled his third glass, "talking to himself on some ship on a planet long lost." With a sharp, cold chuckle he drank and set down the glass. It left a tiny wet ring on the paper of the map. He hesitated, stared at the bottle for a long time. Finally, he heaved another sigh and put it back in a cupboard. Then he marked the small spot with the word "Akyra" red.

Someone knocked on his door sharply. Arthur walked over to his workdesk, the one not currently occupied by the now whiskey stained map, and sat down heavily. For a minute or two, he looked at his reflection in the dull metal cup full of pens that stood way too close to the edge. When he was certain he didn't look nearly as defeated as he felt, he pressed the black button under the desktop and the door slid open quietly.

"Galacta Knight," he acknowledged the pink-haired warrior and stood when she dipped her head respectfully.

The winged warrior didn't waste any time and got right to the point: "Sir Arthur, we have encountered a Star Warrior on our patrol." She stepped aside and allowed Arthur to take a look at the somewhat torn figure behind her. With his perception slightly fogged by alcohol, Arthur took in the dark blue cape and hair, the scratched mask and glowing yellow eyes.

"Your name?," he asked, stern but friendly.

"Meta."

"-Knight," added Galacta quickly. Meta glanced at her and Arthur saw something like relief in his eyes.

"I am quite certain my soldiers searched the planet for any living creature repeatedly. How are you here, Meta Knight?"

The newly discovered Star Warrior met his eyes with surprising ease; not many withstood Arthur's gaze like that. Even less were able to keep their eyes so carefully free of emotion as Meta did. Or maybe it was just the alcohol, Sir Arthur couldn't be sure.

"I have been around for a while, a year or two perhaps. I was not sure if it was safe for me to show myself. Your warriors took me by surprise today."

His voice didn't betray any more emotions than his eyes, Arthur noted.

"Since you came back with them, I assume you wish to join our ranks?," he threw Galacta Knight a brief glance, "I do not suppose they forced you?"

The winged warrior let out a barely audible snort and ruffled her wings angrily, but left it up to Meta to answer. The man shook his head stiffly: "No. I came on my own free will once I was sure there truly was a Star Warrior among them and they were members of the GSA."

"You have been searching for us?," Arthur asked, genuinely surprised now. What fame the Galaxy Soldier Army had had once, which had been a lot, thanks to their alliance with the Star Warriors, had diminished after their terrible defeat on Akyra.

Meta Knight dipped his head the same way Galacta had earlier; if he was copying her or had learnt the gesture elsewhere they didn't know.

"Indeed. My family sent me to find you as soon as they were certain my knowledge of the Old Tongue was not a coincidence. To get proper training, as my father said."

"When the Star fell," Galacta Knight speculated and Meta Knight dipped his head in a tiny nod again.

"It was... late, I was already sixteen. Most get them earlier."

"Certainly. But only once the Star Warrior in question is ready."

Meta Knight avoided looking at them this time: "I suppose."

Sir Arthur cleared his throat: "I am quite grateful to have another Star Warrior among us. Galacta Knight, take him to the west wing. He can stay with the other apprentices. I'll order a Waddle Dee to bring him food and whatever supplies he needs, whether they are medical or anything else."

Galacta Knight nodded firmly and Meta quickly copied her motion. The two turned to leave; the winged warrior allowed the new apprentice to walk through the door before her. Just before her wing tips brushed past the door frame, Sir Arthur called out for her. She stopped, but didn't turn around this time.

"Yes?"

"Once you are done, come back here. I want a full report on your patrol and... I need to tell you something."

The tone of his voice sent a small quiver across her wings, but she forced her voice into polite firmness: "Of course, Sir."

She left and the door slid shut, the small tremor enough to knock over the cup on his desk. Pens rolled across the floor. Arthur sighed and started to pick them up, but he couldn't help but feel a tiny spark of hope glow in his chest. Maybe this new Star Warrior was a sign. A sign that the destruction of the Capitol was not their end. He stood, pens and cup in hand, and his lavender eyes rested on the red mark that surrounded the tiny drawing of planet Akyra now. He certainly did hope it was.

* * *

"Just stay in this wing until someone fetches you, okay?"

Meta Knight nodded at Galacta Knight and the other warrior, now maskless, smiled warmly at him. As soon as they had left Sir Arthur's presence and the more crowded hallways, she had become a lot less formal. Friendly, even.

On her way out, Galacta had to dodge a tiny girl in an orange dress. She smiled softly at the girl and then she was gone. Meta Knight eyed the stranger warily. Her skin was dark, darker than Galacta's that was more olive than brown. Big, black eyes looked at him carefully, but not unfriendly. It took him a while to look away from the innocent, honest gaze and notice the large basket she was carrying.

"Waddle Dee?," he asked slowly. The girl nodded, smiled brightly and set her basket down on the floor. She bent her knees a little and left with light, gentle steps. After a minute or two, Meta moved to close the door. It slid closed, but he had to move it himself unlike the automatic one of Sir Arthur's office. No lock. He would just have to hope that everyone was occupied for now and would leave him some privacy for a while.

Next, he picked up the basket and set it down on the tiny wooden table right under the thin slit in the wall that served as a window. A thick layer of dust had settled on the glass and even when he brushed it aside, the room didn't get much brighter. He found a light switch next to the door though and sicklish, grey light seeped through the room.

Meta inspected his surroundings. Two bunk beds with three bunks each were built into the walls and each had a small dresser next to it. The beds were ready for new apprentices, with clean, grey linen sheets on the mattresses, thin, mint green pillows and neatly folded blankets in the same color at the foot of each bunk. No dust on those, Meta checked, and neither was there on the floor. Apparently, the rooms were kept clean and ready for recruits for the most part. Recruits that would never come.

Meta allowed his mouth to curve upwards the slightest bit under his mask before he forced the emotions back into hiding and went back to assessing what would be his quarters.

The room was small, a bit cramped even, but not unwelcoming. The only furniture aside from the beds and dressers were two chairs at the table he had put the Waddle Dee's basket on. He spotted a door next to one of the beds though and brief investigation revealed a tiny bathroom with a shower tucked in the corner, a toilet in the other and a sink with a mirror over it on the wall directly opposite of him.

Meta shut the door carefully. He glanced at the door, but no one was coming in to disturb him just yet. The basket sat half-forgotten on the table still. The man walked back over and opened it. He found basic toiletries like soap and a toothbrush, towels, a sandwich that had been wrapped in white paper, a First Aid Kit, some one-size-fits-all clothes he had no intention of wearing and even a pair of boots that were only one size too big for him. Interesting.

Steps neared the door and Meta tensed briefly, but they passed by without stopping. His gaze brushed across the room again and he checked all the bunks as well as the cupboards and under the table, but it didn't turn up anything suspicious. Still unhappy about the unlocked door, he grabbed a towel, soap and the other hygiene products and disappeared into the bathroom. This door did have a lock at least and Meta made sure to use it. The light in here didn't work, but Meta Knight didn't mind; he was used to darkness.

For a few seconds, he just waited, listening to his own breath and his heartbeat echoing in his ears, a lot steadier and calmer than he felt. Then he drew the rusty sword from its makeshift holster at his belt and loosened the black, smooth gem stuck in the handle, carefully hidden with a thick layer of soot and ash. A swift movement later, Meta's hand bled from a slash on his palm. Before he could second guess himself, he pressed the gem onto the torn flesh. White hot pain shot up his arm and his free hand clenched.

The gem opened to reveal a tiny computer, a communication device that was both tiny and effective. Meta forced his fist to open and typed in a single word.

'Successful.'


	2. Eyes Wide Open

When Meta Knight left the bathroom, his hair still a bit wet and already dressed in his old, but now cleaner clothes, he found that his room wasn't empty anymore. A soldier with sun tanned, freckle-covered skin and tousled blonde hair awaited him. He didn't wear his mask and his face showed mild interest, mixed with a spark of humor many had lost during the war. Meta quickly assured himself that his own mask sat firmly over his face and forced back the instinct of 'Enemy! Attack!' that sent adrenaline rushes through his body.

The soldier looked up and the corners of his mouth rose a bit: "There you are. Remember me?"

Meta shook his head, though he clearly could identify him as one of the men in Galacta Knight's group, one whose name he had yet to learn.

"I'm Sir Jecra," the man said, stretched out his hand and Meta shook it with his uninjured one, "I'm supposed to show you around a bit and mentor you. That's tomorrow though, today I'll just make sure you don't get lost in here. They'd assign you a Star Warrior for a mentor anyway, but we're kinda... short of them at the moment."

"What about Galacta Knight?," Meta dared to ask. The other froze and his smile faltered.

...did he imagine it or did Jecra really avoid his eyes?

No, he hadn't, he realized when the other shifted and his shoulders rose a bit. Defensively.

For a moment Meta Knight thought Jecra might punish him and though the idea didn't frighten him, he hadn't wanted to make enemies here. Not when they didn't trust him just yet.

Jecra, shoulders still risen, didn't seem to be offended though. That was good, at least.

"In the process of leaving. She's leading what few Star Warriors are left to clear our path through Nightmare's troops outside the atmosphere."

There was more to it, Meta knew, and the thought made him frown. He stopped himself barely in time to stop it from reaching his eyes.

"You ready to go?," Sir Jecra asked, smoothly switching the topic. The blue-haired warrior thought about the First Aid Kit, his still throbbing palm and the sandwich that could fill the hole in his stomach. Then he thought about the trust and approval he needed to gain.

"Ready," he said.

* * *

"The ninja own pretty much all of the east wing. Wouldn't go in there if I were you, they don't like trespassers much. Only one recruit who went in there unauthorized didn't get in major trouble and she's one of them now. Called Nala or something, has quite the temper, if I remember correctly," Jecra shrugged, "No matter though. Ninja business isn't our business unless it's in battles. Or if they want it to be our business."

Meta followed the older warrior past the entrance to a hallway shrouded in darkness and on to a wide door. Jecra pressed a button and it slid aside; Meta Knight saw a large room, the floor covered in something soft. Three quarters of the far wall were a giant window, but since there wasn't much light outside, it did little to brighten the room and flickering neon lamps gave everything a faint grey color. A few soldiers were doing warm ups scattered across the large, clear space.

"Training room," Jecra grinned, "We'll be using that tomorrow."

He waved at a warrior with a red ponytail who waved back before turning to talk to a soldier carrying a dangerous looking mace. They threw Meta a brief glance that induced something like unease in him. Weird, he didn't get uneasy, not unless there was a good reason for it. Which usually meant he had upset the emperor somehow, but he was nowhere close right now.

Jecra relieved him from thinking the feeling over by nudging him out the door so he could close it again.

"Next up, infirmary!," he announced brightly.

After he had seen the Waddle Dee-run infirmary, the main machine room, the soldiers' quarters, one of six storage units, the outside of the labs, the navigation room including the attached observatory, the small wing reserved for the few non-GSA citizens and the door leading to the main bridge, Jecra steered him down a seemingly empty hallway. The smooth, windowless walls painted white like Meta's new room felt cold and grey under the neon-light.

"One last stop before the cafeteria," his guide and, apparently, mentor explained.

He stopped and brushed over a very specific part of the wall. A round piece moved and revealed a keypad. Jecra typed in a code and a way larger chunk of wall lowered itself. Jecra stepped into the passage behind without hesitation, but Meta waited a heartbeat longer. Something in there, at the end of this hallway, was both calling and rejecting him. Hot and cold flashes ran across his back. Something seemed to burn on his chest, sending out searing heat in waves. The sensation was both painful and weirdly euphoric. Meta hurried to follow Jecra.

The older soldier waited for him in another hallway that seemed to run parallel to the white hall they had left earlier. It was more narrow though and the walls were dark. No, that wasn't right. Scattered across the walls lay Warp Stars in neatly cut out cases, emitting a softly pulsing glow. Meta reached into his shirt and pulled out his own Warp Star. It pulsed with light just like the ones on the walls, but also heat. His hand felt uncomfortably hot quickly, he could have sworn the skin was burning, but it had no visible effects and Meta was grateful for that.

Jecra was looking at him expectantly.

"I...," he started and trailed off into silence. His fingers clenched around his Star and the golden edges dug into his palm; it was a welcome distraction from the feeling of burning skin.

"Overwhelming, uh? All Star Warriors store their Warp Stars here when they aren't on long distance missions," the older soldier explained after a few heartbeats, "When I went here first, the whole thing was bright. The walls were completely covered in their Stars..."

He glanced at Meta and the Star Warrior forced a sad glimmer into his eyes and a tiny slump onto his shoulders. They stood in silence once more until Jecra cleared his throat: "Your Star will get a spot here, too, once the head of the Star Warrior unit is back and assigns you one."

When he didn't get a reaction, he continued: "...we should go get dinner. It's been a long day."

While the two left the storage hallway and the passage back to the main path, Meta couldn't help but feel like something in his chest was tugged on from two different directions; a known feeling for him, but it had been a long time since he last felt it. No matter though - he had decided which tug he would follow long ago.

* * *

The cafeteria was loud and full. Jecra dropped Meta Knight off at a table with three other recruits and hurried over to the corner where non-warriors sat. Meta briefly saw how he hugged a woman whose belly was round and heavy with an unborn child, then a group of senior Galaxy Soldiers walked past and when they were gone, the pair had disappeared from sight.

"So you're the new guy?"

Meta turned. A boy with dark, almost black skin and bright red hair tied together in a ponytail atop his head eyed him curiously. The Star Warrior nodded politely.

"Name's Dragato. Gonna get my 'Sir' any day now, so you might wanna stay on my good side," the boy said, his tone more mischievous than serious, and stretched out one hand. Meta shook it, unsure what to reply.

"Pffffft, as if," said a girl - no, she was older than that, a woman - with pale skin and almond-shaped eyes. Her lilac hair fell in soft curls around her face. Her skin had an olive tint, almost like Galacta's, but paler. "Don't listen to him," she said and Meta noted how her words sounded a bit off, like she wasn't speaking her Native Tongue, "I'm way older than him and I won't get my 'Lady' for at least two months!"

"It's not about age," pouted Dragato, "If it were, Galacta would have hers since ages!"

"I've trained longer, too."

"But Garludeeeee..."

Meta tuned out on their bickering and faced the last person at the table. By the looks of it, she was a ninja; most of her face was obscured by her black mask. He only saw a pair of gleaming, magenta eyes and dark violet hair, firmly tied in a tiny knot atop her head. Not even the shade of her skin he could be certain about as the shadows on her face falsified whatever he could see.

Why wasn't she the with the other ninja?

"Hello," he said with carefully composed friendliness, "I'm Meta... Knight, I guess."

She looked him up and down, calculating, but her eyes betrayed no emotion.

"Nyela."

The ninja stood immediately, arms folded behind her back and eyes down. Another ninja had approached their table without Meta noticing him. Like Nyela, it was hard to find any outstanding features about him. His hair was brown and bushy and his gaze red, but other than that, he remained a vague shape of black.

"You may sit at our table tonight," he said without sparing Meta a single glance.

Nyela nodded silently and the two left.

Meta turned back to Garlude and Dragato who had fallen silent as soon as the other ninja had made his presence known.

"Who was that?," he asked forcedly casual.

"Yamikage. Pretty high up in ninja hierarchy. Nyela's mentor, too," Garlude shrugged, "It's a good thing he keeps to himself mostly."

"Yeah," Dragato chimed in, "Nyela was a prick while she was a regular apprentice, but now she's unbearable!"

Garlude glared at her fellow apprentice and under her scolding gaze, Dragato added: "...at least she's more quiet now. And doesn't train with us anymore."

Before Garlude could as much as open her mouth to scold the other verbally, someone set down their tray of food on the spot Nyela had occupied before. Meta Knight looked up and recognized the mechanic that had been among the group he had encountered after fighting the crow demon.

"Hey there," he said and since his mask only covered his eyes and the area immediately around it, the grin he wore was clearly visible, "How you doing?"

"You're supposed to sit with the other Sirs now, Falspar," Dragato pointed out. The eye roll was visible even through Sir Falspar's visor.

Garlude eyed the newcomer's tray with badly hidden jealousy: "Full soldiers always get the best stuff."

Falspar grinned again: "You aren't gonna get anything if you don't go now."

Dragato jumped to his feet and sped off; Garlude snorted, but got up herself, then looked at Meta: "You're gonna come along or what?"

He shook his head just a tad too quickly: "Not hungry."

As if on cue, his stomach emitted a rumbling growl. Meta felt how his ears grew hot with embarrassment and was glad he was still wearing his mask.

Garlude rose one of her finely trimmed brows: "Sure. Get going now or I'll force-feed you."

A few senior warriors were looking over and Meta gave up, not wanting to start a fight of any sort. Not quite yet.

Ten minutes later he was back at the table, a tray with a bowl on it in front of him. The stew in front of him smelled delicious and his mouth watered at the thought of food, but still he hesitated, taking extra time to look at everyone at the table again. Dragato and Falspar were stuffing their faces and talking, too deep in conversation to pay him any mind.

Garlude sat across the table from him though, arms folded and she hadn't touched her food yet. Meta bit back a sigh.

"Look...," he started and hesitated, "I... my mask..."

Damn. He should have planned this scenario. Correction, he should have planned this scenario happening so soon. NOVA damn it.

"Can't be worse than Dragato's face," Sir Falspar grinned and patted his back a bit rougher than necessary.

"Oi!"

The two got into a minor argument and it took their attention away from Meta again.

Garlude shook her head softly: "Seriously. We don't judge each other's faces. Masks are for battles."

"Not mine," Meta said quickly, falling into the rehearsed speech that he had planned for later, "I... need it."

The other recruit looked at him questioningly. Meta swallowed down his doubts and slowly undid the clamps that held the mask on his face.

With the visor, his vision left as well. He heard how Garlude whistled quietly. They wouldn't kick him out for it, would they? He had yet to prove himself useful, but he also was a Star Warrior. He wouldn't fail his mission because of... this?

"That looks like it hurt," Garlude commented finally.

"It did," he replied as calmly as he could.

"Your eyes...," she started, but didn't continue.

"Damaged beyond repair," Meta stated bluntly and imagined Garlude's fascinated gaze on the scar tissue marring most of his face; maybe it was a disgusted look, too, he couldn't see, "The mask is an invention by my father. The visor allows me to see."

"Then how do you eat and that stuff where you can't wear it?," Garlude sounded more curious than anything. Meta supposed that was among the better outcomes of this scenario, though he would have preferred not getting into the situation at all.

"I'm not helpless without my sight," he answered and barely managed to keep his annoyance out of his voice and face, "I lost it when I was three and didn't get the mask until I was sixteen. I can do most things with my other senses, but in certain situation it's... impractical."

Silence. Meta heard a soft rustle and guessed that Garlude had nodded. Nodding at the blind guy, brilliant. He let it slide for now though.

When she didn't speak up again, Meta started to eat. As soon as he finished, he slipped the mask back on. Only Falspar had cleared his plate faster than him; Dragato was about to finish, but Garlude had barely eaten half of her food. She was sneaking glances at Meta whenever she thought he didn't notice, but he certainly did. At least no one apart from their table had noticed, it seemed. Meta Knight knew his blindness didn't hinder him much - it was part of him, his other senses had adjusted just fine and yes, it was impractical sometimes, just like being tall or being left-handed was impractical sometimes. He knew all that, but no one else did and he had no intention of letting them know just so they could kick him out because they deemed him weak.

Finally, when Falspar had already excused himself and left, Garlude was done with her meal as well. Meta considered just leaving, but he supposed it was impolite and he needed to establish alliances here.

"So, how come you joined the GSA?," asked Dragato. Meta just barely stopped himself from flinching when he was addressed out of the blue like that. He hesitated a moment, but luckily Dragato was eager to tell his own story first: "I joined cause I grew up 'round here. Was a pretty place, before the Demons came," his face darkened considerably, "Got most of the people I knew. Barely even remember them now, even my family. I'm getting payback now."

Meta Knight didn't like the look on Dragato's face one bit. Dragato nudged him and looked at him expectantly.

"I... My family lived in one of the neutral zones. When it became certain I was a Star Warrior, they sent me to find the GSA and get proper training."

"Booooring," Dragato commented and Garlude looked about ready to throw her empty bowl at him. Meta glanced at her, waiting. She noticed and sighed, brushing one lilac lock out of her face.

"My husband was a Galaxy Soldier. He fell a year after our daughter was born and I paid someone much money to put her in a stasis pod while I went to replace him. This is not a world I want my child to grow up in," she told them.

'It won't be the world she will grow up in,' Meta Knight thought to himself.

The cafeteria had emptied considerably. Jecra, one arm slung protectively around the pregnant woman from earlier, stopped by the table.

"Meta Knight?"

The Star Warrior stood and dipped his head.

"Tomorrow morning, 8am, in the training room. Understood?"

Meta nodded firmly and Jecra and his presumed wife left.

"Been a while since Jecra had an apprentice," Dragato commented when he rose and started stacking their bowls and trays, "I'd have thought they'd assign you a Star Warrior."

"With Lady Sirius stationed on Gamma-4 and Sir Firenze dead, there are no fully trained Star Warrior around," Garlude said and shook her head.

Dragato shrugged and shoved the stacks into Meta's hands.

Only way later, when Meta was laying in his new bed, the new covers covering his body and sleep already reaching for him with long, dark fingers, he realized that Dragato and Garlude had unknowingly given him the information he had wanted from Jecra: Though a senior Galaxy Soldier, Galacta Knight had not received her title of a Lady yet.

* * *

It was only 7.40am when Meta arrived in the training room. He had avoided the cafeteria this morning, partly because he didn't want to reveal his face again and partly because he feared he might get lost if he tried to find his way on his own. The sandwich from Waddle Dee's basket hadn't tasted bad, anyway; a bit dry from laying untouched for a while, but it filled his stomach and that was what mattered.

At the moment, he had positioned himself right next to the door, back against the wall. The windows showed vast darkness and glittering stars now, so Meta assumed they had left Akyra some time during the night.

The training area was empty apart from Yamikage, Nyela and another ninja apprentice he hadn't seen before. They stuck to the far corner though and as long as they left Meta alone he wouldn't bother them either. Meta closed his eyes and felt how his other senses took over with well-known ease.

"...higher." That was Yamikage's voice and Meta was somewhat surprised how such a quiet voice could sound so commanding. There was a whirring sound that stopped with an abrupt thud. Then another.

"Tageki's turn." Yamikage again.

A few more whirs were heard, then Yamikage ordered Nyela to take over again. Meta heard how she shifted a bit before throwing and tensed. The whirring came closer quickly, and his hand shot up on reflex, closing around something small, sharp, metallic and quite deadly if used correctly. He opened his eyes. A kunai, as expected.

His gaze flickered over to the ninja. Tageki was facing Yamikage, but both the senior ninja and his apprentice were looking at Meta with barely concealed interest and, in Nyela's case, disgust. That seemed to be her default look for anyone but Yamikage though.

With slow steps, Yamikage walked over.

"Impressive," he commented, "Your reflexes are good."

He held out his hand and Meta hesitated for a second or two, then handed him the dagger. Yamikage's arm moved quickly, quicker than Nyela's throw had been by lengths, but the kunai didn't stab Meta. Instead, there was a yelp from behind him and Tageki was cradling his bleeding arm. Nyela was holding a second dagger, tip pointed at her, inches from her shoulder, and Meta realized Yamikage must have thrown that one, too.

"I hope your training will sharpen them even further."

With that, the ninja turned around, sent Tageki to the infirmary and continued training Nyela. His gaze left an uneasy prickle on Meta's back that didn't even subside when the two ninja left the room.

He glanced at the large clock over the door. 8.05am. Jecra wasn't going to be on time?

'Discipline has never been a Galaxy Soldier Army trait, it seems,' he thought, folded his arms to hide his body behind his cape and waited.

Jecra arrived at 8.18am, threw Meta a pair of white gloves and a wooden sword and ordered him to the corner opposite of the one Yamikage had occupied earlier. He himself carried a shield and wore his mask now; it split his messy hair in the middle and gave him a look much more like a warrior than the well-humoured guide he had been the day before. His sword was made of wood also, though it looked in less good shape than Meta's whose weapon seemed nearly new. The senior warrior positioned himself opposite of Meta.

"Attack me," he ordered.

Meta Knight calculated briefly; Jecra was taller than him, broader too, but maybe if he could unbalance him?

He shot forward, aiming for the feet. Jecra parried the blow with his shield and pushed the recruit back. Just in time, Meta brought up his weapon replica to block and the two wooden blades locked. Meta allowed himself to step back and put his weight on his heels. Jecra, slightly unbalanced, moved to adjust his footing and the blue-haired warrior took the chance. He leaned forward, twisting his sword and pushing his free hand against the shield. To his surprise, Sir Jecra used the motion to direct all force back on the swords and Meta felt how the hilt slipped from his fingers. He jumped back while the sword fell and dove forward, below the shield, kicked at Jecra's feet and felt how the larger warrior swayed. He grabbed his sword from the ground, aimed and struck. Jecra stumbled back and a second, well-aimed kick hurtled his weapon away from him. Instinctively, Meta jumped forward, his sword risen in a stabbing motion. Jecra's shield connected with the side of his head painfully and he was thrown aside. He rolled to cushion the shock, but it didn't help the ringing in his ears. Meta remained crouching on the floor, vision spinning. He closed his eyes. He didn't feel as dizzy now, but with his ears still ringing as they did, he had very little to help him orient himself.

The sharp drift of something approaching him quickly prompted him to roll to the side once more. His head protested with another bout of nausea.

"...you okay?"

Meta opened his eyes. Jecra was staring at him, one hand outstretched to help him up from the spot he had been sitting on before. So it hadn't been an attack?

He got to his feet on his own, still wary. His head seemed to calm down a bit, apart from the throbbing pain that had set in where the shield had slammed into his head.

"Fine," he replied. Jecra didn't look convinced, Meta could see the doubt in his eyes even through the mask he wore. For a moment, he was afraid that he would be sent away now, deemed useless, before he forced that nonsense back.

"If you say so," he gave Meta few seconds to protest, but the recruit remained silent, "That wasn't half bad. You are a bit stuck in certain attack patterns though and most of your moves will be hard to use in a team. We're gonna have to work on that."

Meta nodded, grimaced slightly when it sent a spark of pain through his body and went back in position.

They trained until lunch; Meta suffered a few more bruises, but overall they were nearly evenly matched. In a real battle, there was no way to tell who would win. When Jecra finally called it quits for the moment, the clock read 1.09pm. Meta found himself dragged to the cafeteria where his mentor left him on his own devices once more.

The Star Warrior considered sneaking back out; he was hungry, but perhaps he could find a Waddle Dee and have them bring him another sandwich? Before he could think any further though, Dragato noticed his arrival and started waving wildly. NOVA damn it. He couldn't just flee now.

Biting back a sigh, he walked his way to the table. Dragato was alone this time.

"Hello," Meta greeted him, stiff and polite as always. Dragato only grinned in return as his attempts to speak through a mouth full of vegetables failed. The Star Warrior sat down opposite of him and, out of habit, scanned his surroundings. There were less people around than there had been the evening before, but it was still uncomfortably full; and noisy.

"Where are the others?," he asked when he saw neither Falspar, Garlude nor Nyela. Dragato swallowed and set down his fork.

"They didn't tell you?," he frowned, "Garlude was ordered to some planet as part of a securing unit, cause her mentor went, too. Won't be back for a while, either. No idea where Falspar is, but if I had to guess I'd say the other mechanics are keeping him in the machine room for lunch. They're kinda tight-knit and stuff," he started shovelling vegetables into his mouth again, "Ny'la's no' been a' our 'able 'ince las' nigh'. Ya'i'age 'oesn' like S'ar 'arriors 'uch, I 'hink."

Meta Knight nodded and forced his face to remain blank even though it was hidden by his mask. Dragato seemed somewhat gullible, he could be a useful source of information, but looking disgusted at his eating habits probably wouldn't strengthen a possible liking the other recruit might have for him.

"What about you?," Dragato asked and tipped his head to the side, "You're not gonna eat?"

Meta Knight shrugged vaguely.

"Garlude made me promise to make sure you eat properly," Dragato waved his fork at him, "So you better do that. Don't wanna get chewed out by her when she gets back."

"If," Meta correctly automatically.

His fellow recruit blinked: "What?"

Shit. He hadn't meant to say that. Force of habit, he supposed, but how could he get himself out of this?

"...securing units have one of the highest casualty rates," he said finally, "Garlude isn't on a harmless mission."

Dragato shook his head and for the first time since he met the other, Meta saw him look entirely serious.

"Garlude doesn't get... not like that. She's though."

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Meta Knight. The blue-haired warrior lifted his shoulders in a hint of a shrug and stood, suddenly glad he could go and get his food.

They didn't talk any more for the rest of the meal.


End file.
